


Cold Water

by Nomme_de_Plume



Series: The Pursued, the Pursuing - AU [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomme_de_Plume/pseuds/Nomme_de_Plume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Standard warning - AU, 1920s United States. Experimental drabble, relatively pointless.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Cold Water

**Author's Note:**

> Standard warning - AU, 1920s United States. Experimental drabble, relatively pointless.

The water of the sound between Tarth and the mainland was frigid, but Brienne didn’t care. She’d started her mornings by diving into it for as long as she could remember, every single day without hesitation. It was quiet out among the waves - just her, the gentle, rhythmic sound of the waves, and the high-above chatter of the gulls as they fought over choice bits of fish. There was nothing else - no sniggers, no whispered comments, no guffaws that would erupt just after she’d turned a corner, no derision, and most of all, no pity. Brienne had been young, no more than a girl, when she’d realized that was the look she’d get from the adults at school or around the island; pity. It had been a few more years before she realized she hated it, and it had been what had driven her to join the Navy and there, there had been no pity.   
  
The war had come, and Brienne had thought that this was her chance, this was her opportunity to show her fellow officers what she was made of. Assigned to the  _ U.S.S. Delaware _ ,  a lumbering Dreadnought-class ship,  Brienne had been able to carve out her own little niche among the officers there. For a brief while, she’d thought she had earned their respect with her skill in tactics and planning, and maybe she had. But the war had come to an end, and after the ticker-tape parades and the celebrations that she was always just on the outside of, Brienne had returned to Tarth. She’d been hailed as a local hero for awhile, but when she’d been unwilling to talk much about the battles she’d seen or the injuries, the interest had waned and pretty soon she was just Brienne again, the ugly, awkward and oversized daughter of the oldest family on the island.   
  
_Dad’s done his best by you_ , she thought as she took one long stroke after another, pulling her ungainly body further and further from shore. Sometimes she thought she could just keep going, past the breakers, past the drop-off a few miles out, and just never stop. That wouldn’t stop the jokes, though, and Brienne knew that. When she washed up she’d just be known as the ugly, awkward, oversized coward who couldn’t even run away right.  _God knows you didn’t make it easy. He could’ve used Mom but you couldn’t even spare her._   
  
Pausing mid-stroke, Brienne flipped to her back, bobbing slightly in the waves. The sky above was a clear, cloudless blue, stretching from horizon to horizon like some washed out cataract. She gazed at it a long while, letting the cold ocean draw the feeling from her body as she drifted further and further out. When she felt herself starting to grow drowsy by the gentle rocking motion, she flipped back over to her stomach. The shore of Tarth was little more than a smudge on the horizon.  _You’d better head back in. The tide’s going to change and you’ll be halfway to Ireland before you realize it and Dad’ll be waiting._   
  
Brienne dunked her head under the water, slicking back her yellow hair and starting to paddle for the mainland. The tide was in fact coming out, and she gritted her teeth at the challenge. It took maybe an hour, maybe less, before her feet scraped the pebbly sand, and by then she was exhausted but at the same time exhilarated. Snatching her towel off the pier piling where she’d left it, Brienne scrubbed her hair and started towards the stairs to the small, neat house she shared with her father. Despite the fact that it was the dead of winter, scraggly coastal grasses nodded in the salty breeze. Brienne let her thick hand graze the top of it and paused at the foot of the stairs. Beneath her bare feet the sand was fine and cold, just the way she liked it. The sun was just over the horizon now, glinting gold and red off the ocean. The gulls cried noisily to each other overhead, occasionally dipping down into the frothy surf. Brienne allowed herself a brief, restrained smile, and then started up the stairs.


End file.
